Walk of Shame
by The Keddster
Summary: Kate Beckett is doing the walk of shame and she wants to do it as privately as possible. Please let the elevator be empty, she prays silently... We've all done the Walk of Shame; this is my version of what Kate's may have looked like post Always.


**A/N: Had to get this up before you guys all settle in for Ep 1. Spare a thought for us outside the US who have to wait or try to download it from _somewhere_.**

**For my Aussie friends, if you've ever watched the fabulous program 'Offspring' you may recognise one of these lines - I borrowed it from Nina Proudman.**

Disclaimer: Wish I owned them, but alas no. I have however borrowed then and hope I've done them justice.

**Walk of Shame**

As Kate Beckett waits for the elevator to arrive on Castle's floor she stands tapping her foot anxiously, willing it to arrive before anyone sees her. It's early, very early and she's hoping that most of his neighbours are still safely tucked away in their beds because many of them _know_ her and in her current dishevelled state, the last thing she wants is to run into any of them.

She's barefoot, bra-less, has a serious case of 'bed head' that she is certain screams _I just had sex _and she's desperately clutching her jacket, boots and bra to her chest. She is doing the walk of shame and she wants to do it as privately as possible. _Please let the elevator be empty, _she prays silently.

Her hasty retreat from Castle's loft at such an ungodly hour is the result of the unexpected, early arrival of both his mother and his apparently hung-over daughter just as they were about to get started on an encore of the previous night's _activities._

Kate shivers at the memory of the previous evening, a night of confessions, apologies, forgiveness and the most _phenomenal_ sex of her life; so good, they repeated it three times and if they hadn't been interrupted just now, they would be in the middle of round four. _God Kate, don't let your mind go there, _she thinks and tries to push the delicious images of the night before from her mind, but she can't help herself, the memories flood her consciousness and the fact that she can still smell him on her skin makes the task almost impossible.

The _ping _of the elevator startles her from her musing and she steps gratefully inside, breathing a huge sigh of relief when she finds she is the sole occupant. She's leaning against the rear wall, her eyes closed, head back when the lift shudders to a stop after only one floor. She mutters _shit _under her breath as the doors slide open, groaning silently when she sees old Mrs Britchly step on board; or as Castle likes to call her, Mrs Witchly. Kate can't help smirking as she vaguely recalls Martha referring to her as 'that awful Mrs _Bitchly_'.

Unfortunately both names describe her alarming accuracy; an incredibly wealthy old crone who likes nothing better than to gossip incessantly about her neighbours and who blatantly looks down her rather large nose at anyone who doesn't come from 'old money'.

"Oh, Detective Beckett. Good morning," the older woman says haughtily, her gaze taking in Kate's appearance as she draws her lips into a disapproving grimace. "You've been visiting Mr Castle I assume?"

Kate would like nothing more than to wipe the high and mighty look off her face; _actually yes, I've been fucking his brains out all night and it was amazing, _but she doesn't want to give the old cow a heart attack.

"That's right."

The old woman continues to watch Kate, her already wrinkled brow furrowing in expectation, waiting for her to elaborate.

When Kate fails to oblige, she continues. "You and Mr Castle must have been up very late. I can't keep track of his comings and goings."

Kate has to stifle a laugh at that particular choice of words and replies, smiling sweetly, "Yes actually. It was a very eventful night."

"Such a dangerous job you do, guarding our streets. I just hope you're safe, take all the necessary precautions."

Kate has to cover her mouth with her hand then, to hide the smirk she can no longer hold back at this last statement.

_Jeez Kate, just because you spend almost every day with the master of sexual innuendo, and last night you saw him naked, doesn't mean you have to read anything dirty into this conversation._

"Thank you for your concern Mrs Britchly," she manages to reply. "Safety is always a priority for any cop."

_Please God, let the ground floor come soon, and let there be nobody else around, _Kate pleads silently and then she remembers._ Dammit, Castle's building has a doorman._

Kate had planned to pull her boots on once safely inside the lift and away from Castle's floor, but she doesn't want to draw attention to the fact that she was exiting sans footwear by doing it now, so she's tying to come up with a plan to discretely don her still-wet boots when the elevator doors finally slide open.

"Lovely to see you, Detective. Do say hello to Mr Castle for me." Mrs Britchly says in a thoroughly spurious tone, that superior, almost scandalized look still on her face.

"Will do," Kate assures her. _I'll definitely be warning him that the biggest gossip in the building just caught her sneaking out of his apartment at a less than socially acceptable hour. Ugghh._

As Kate steps out of the elevator behind the older woman, she braces herself before the greeting she knows is imminent from the doorman; because _they_ all know her too. But when she raises her eyes from her still-bare feet, she groans and rolls her eyes heavenward. _You have got to be kidding me._

Apparently she has caught the night doorman handing over to the day shift and they both greet her with very different smiles.

"Detective Beckett," Eduardo, the older of the two says politely with a wide, almost fatherly smile. No smirk, no knowing look. _Thank God. _

Unfortunately she's not so lucky with the younger man; a relative newcomer to the building, with a bad habit of lecherously staring at her boobs. She cringes at the wink and the knowing look he bestows in her and for the first time she's grateful for the items she has clutched to her chest because the last thing she needs is him copping an eyeful of her minus her bra.

"Long night Detective Beckett?"

_Wouldn't you like to know, _she thinks with a shudder, but before he can comment further his colleague offers to call her a cab. She accepts gratefully and heads for the door, deciding to don her boots once she is safely on the street.

As she waits for her taxi it suddenly occurs to her how many times she has been greeted as Detective Beckett this morning and she pauses, waits for a flicker of regret or uncertainty, expects it; but it doesn't come. In fact, the only thing she feels right now, apart from the mild embarrassment at her so far, somewhat public walk of shame, is ridiculously euphoric.

She's drunk on endorphins, which may explain her lack of discomfort from the Maddox-induced bruises developing in technicolour on her body and she can't stop smiling. If she wasn't so blissfully exhausted she might have been tempted to walk awhile, because the early morning sun is out, the traffic is relatively light and the city always seems cleaner after a storm, like some of the grime has been temporarily washed away.

Her weariness gets the better of her though, and when the taxi pulls up she sinks gratefully into the seat. The driver smirks as she gives her address and she frowns. _Seriously, is every person I see this morning going to give me their best 'I know what you've been up to' look? Yes people, judge me if you must because it's true. I just spent the night sprawled naked in Richard Castle's bed and it was the most mind-blowing, satisfying, emotional, mind-blowing… oops, already said that… night of my life and I plan to repeat it as soon as humanly possible._

Kate allows her head to rest on the back of the seat then, her eyes drifting closed as she permits herself to sink into the memories of their night together.

His initial reaction to her tearful, rain-soaked appearance at his door didn't surprise her. The hurt and anger were practically radiating off of him, but it was the defeated look in those usually sparkling blue eyes, and the knowledge that she was responsible for it, that broke her heart. But somehow, through the groundswell of emotions they were both feeling; the regret, the hurt, the uncertainty and the fear, there was also something undeniable, an inexplicable force drawing them together. It has been there since the beginning and last night, finally, after whispered apologies and desperate kisses it exploded in a frenzy of _need_.

Kate shivered at the memory of the almost desperate meeting of mouths, hands and bodies against his front door, which gradually morphed into an exhilarating, intensely emotional and intoxicating blend of passion, lust and tenderness. The things he said to her, the memory of his eyes, his hands, his mouth on her, the feeling of touching him, of having him inside her makes her _ache_. It's so wonderfully overwhelming that she doesn't realise she's home until the taxi driver speaks.

"Miss, we're here."

Kate apologises as she pays him, her mind now lost in the memories of this morning; of waking up next to him, his arm slung possessively across her belly, her legs entwined with his. She was exhausted, unbelievably satisfied, and in the dim, early-morning light she couldn't stop herself from drinking him in; his sleep-softened features, his warmth, his smell. When she found him awake on her return from the kitchen with coffee in hand, she saw desire flare in his eyes as he watched her walk towards him, dressed in nothing but his shirt; but when she sat on the bed next to him there was a moment of mutual shyness and uncertainty. Soft touches, gentle reassurance, laughter and a healthy dose of innuendo quickly cured their nerves and had Martha and Alexis not interrupted, they would be...

_Ugghh. Stop it Kate or you're going to need a cold shower instead of a warm bath, _she admonishes herself while she waits for the elevator in her building, and when the doors open she finds it empty and her eyes again roll heavenward in a silent thankyou. She sighs loudly and allows her weary body to sag against the wall before running, or attempting to run a hand through the snags and tangles left in her hair. _Well, that's what you get for going to bed with it wet… _and again the memories of the night before, memories of him, invade her thoughts as thoroughly and deliciously as he invaded her body.

The way he tangled his fingers in the damp strands of her hair as he kissed her; the wet halo it left on his pillow after he spent the best part of an hour worshiping her with his tongue; the way it curled as it dried, tickling them both as they lay face to face, languidly exploring, mapping and memorising every inch of bare skin with gentle fingertips; all of it resulting in the current state of her usually well-tamed locks.

She can feel her skin begin to flush, can almost feel his hands on her when her reminiscing is interrupted by the beep of her phone. She notes several missed calls and two messages from Lanie but ignores them for now, grinning widely as she sees a text from Castle.

_Sorry, sorry, sorry. So not how this morning was supposed to go. R u OK? R u home? R u naked? Is it okay to say I miss you? _

She chuckles softly, her belly giving an unexpected flutter at his words and she's tapping out a reply as the elevator doors open; but when she moves to step into her hallway the air leaves her body with an '_oomph_' and she drops everything she's carrying, including her phone, when she collides solidly with another person.

She crouches immediately to retrieve her things, apologising profusely and only becoming aware of their identity at the sound of a very familiar voice.

"Kate Beckett, where the hell have you been?"

Kate gives a startled gasp, her head whips up and she finds herself under the unrelenting, suspicious and all too observant gaze of none other than Dr Lanie Parish. The Medical Examiner is standing in front of Kate's still-crouched form, hands on hips, lips pursed and eyebrows suddenly raised. Kate gulps and stands slowly, bracing herself for the barrage of questions about to be fired at her.

"Hey," she manages to utter before Hurricane Lanie unleashes.

"Don't you 'Hey' me girlfriend. I've been worried sick about you. Javi told me about what happened _yesterday_ and I tried to call, and you wouldn't pick up, and nobody knew where you were and I even tried Castle and this morning I couldn't stand it any longer so I came here to see if you were okay and then you weren't home and I… where the hell have you _been_?"

When Lanie pauses to draw breath, Kate uses the opportunity to get a word in. "I'm sorry Lanie. I'm fine, I promise, I…"

"You look like a wreck," Lanie interrupts, her voice an octave higher than usual and definitely louder than it needs to be, given their proximity. "Did you spend the night in a bus shelter or something. Your clothes are a mess, your makeup's a write-off and lets not get started on your hair…"

"Lanie…" Kate starts to reply but is again interrupted by her friend.

"Hang on, cancel that. Let's _definitely_ talk about your hair. I know that look, it's bed hair… no wait, it's _more _than bed hair… Oh my God. It's _sex_ hair," Lanie squeals.

"No it's n…" she utters, trying to deny it, only to very quickly realise she's sunk when Lanie's gaze fixes at her feet. Because when she drops her own eyes she's horrified to see a wisp of black fabric under her left boot. _Shit. Is that my… oh crap, it is. It's my bra._

Hurricane Lanie ups the anti then, elevating to a Category 5 as she shrieks, "Kate Beckett, you've been having se..."

To Kate's utter mortification her next door neighbour, a former priest no less, chooses that exact moment to step into the hall to retrieve his morning newspaper. His eyes widen and his mouth drops open briefly but he appears too stunned to utter a single sound and simply turns on his heel and hastily closes his door.

"Inside." Kate orders, grabbing her bra off the floor before unlocking her door and shoving her friend inside her apartment. "Calm down Lanie."

"Calm down? I've been up all night worrying about your physical and emotional wellbeing and you've been up all night getting your freak on with… Hang on, who exactly were you…"

Kate's phone rings then and Castle's face appears on the screen. She answers immediately, realising she didn't answer his text.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself. Where are you?"

"Just got home," she replies and she can't help smiling; a wistful, pathetically girly, very un-Beckett-like smile.

"So. You did the walk of shame," he teases. "Anyone see you?"

She groans then, and laughs, because if she doesn't laugh she might actually cry. "Who _didn't_ see me? I ran into one of your neighbours, _two _of your doormen, the smart-ass cab driver and now I'm here with…"

"Is that your mystery man?"

"Shit, is that Lanie?" Castle swears.

"None other."

"What? Was she camped outside your door?"

"Pretty much."

"Does she know you're talking to me?"

"Not yet."

"But she knows you didn't come home last night?"

"Unfortunately yes."

"And as soon as you're off the phone she's going to interrogate you isn't she?"

"Unfortunately yes." Kate repeats.

"Are you going to tell her?"

"No plans to. _Yet_."

"Just want it to be our _dirty_ little secret, huh?" Castle teases, his tone low, seductive and her pulse jumps a little at the way he says _dirty._

"Uh, huh."

"So I guess you're not naked then?"

Kate laughs at that, actually it's more like a giggle and as she answers, "Nope," Lanie's eyes widen.

"Can we rectify that later today?"

"God, I hope so."

"I should go. I'll see you later?"

"Okay," and with that, Kate reluctantly hangs up, bracing herself for Lanie's next onslaught.

"So that was him, huh?"

"Yep."

"So are you going to tell me who he is?"

"Nope."

"But you're not denying there was 'sexcapades' last night?"

"Would there be any point?" Kate asks, rolling her eyes.

Lanie is surprisingly quiet then; she's still eyeing Kate, but there's a look of intense concentration on her face, like she's on the verge of solving a puzzle and Kate is terrified.

_Oh no, she's onto something. Get a grip Kate, she can't possibly know anything. She couldn't see who called, you didn't say anything incriminating on the phone and she's not psychic so relax, it'll be… oh no. Shit. Shit. Why did I let him put that damn…_

At the exact moment Kate is silently berating herself for her own stupidity, coming to the realisation that she just overlooked one very obvious and identifying clue, Lanie lets out a loud squeal.

"Ring tone. That ring tone belongs to… holy shit. Kate Beckett, you were with Writerboy."

Kate drops her gaze, her cheeks flaming as Lanie squeals again and she knows the game is up. Time to come clean.

"Guilty."

"Oh my God. Finally, Writerboy, wow, it's about freaking time," she splutters.

Kate watches her in amusement as she bounces excitedly on the spot, clapping her hands like a little kid and she waits, because any minute now Lanie is going to come to her senses and demand details.

And then, as if some sort of telepathy is at play, she rounds on Kate, levels a penetrating stare on her and the questions begin.

"So how was it?"

"Lanie."

"Don't Lanie me. You can't possibly expect me not to ask how the _actual_ sex was after you've sent the last four years having _eye sex_ with him, right in front of me."

"Okay, it was… unbelievable." Kate confesses, her face flushing again; this time due to the memories that suddenly flood her brain, rather than her embarrassment at actually admitting it to Lanie.

"Good-unbelievable or unbelievably-bad-unbelievable?" Lanie asks, her eyes wide with anticipation.

"We-did-it-three-times-unbelievable."

Lanie gives an ear-piercing shriek at this particular piece of information. "No wonder you've got the worst case of 1980's hair porn I've ever seen; but why the hell are you skulking back here, minus your bra no less, when you could be over there…"

"We got interrupted."

"Let me guess. Martha?"

"Martha _and_ Alexis actually." Kate admits.

"Jeez, that's… _awkward_."

"They didn't see me. I snuck out and did the early morning walk of shame back here."

Lanie contemplates this information briefly before a devilish smile appears on her face. "Girlfriend, if Writerboy is as good as you say he is, _that_ was no walk of shame. It was a fucking _victory lap_."

**Just a bit of fun. Hope you liked it. If you did... of if you didn't, please take a minute to review. Thanks :-)**


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